And Mouse only knew of one creature with looks that could burn.
She forced herself to speak. “Are you…a Faerie?”
The creature tilted its head at her. “Yes.”
She backed away. Her hands were shaking.
“You aren’t dreaming. And it would be damn inconvenient if you ran away.”
Instinct finally kicked in, and Mouse screamed. She scrambled down the path, keeping her eyes on the man as she moved. He snorted and held out his hand. A root lifted from the earth and wrapped around her ankle, stopping her in her tracks. The magical vine dragged her back, unbothered by her struggles.
“I hoped you would behave like a rational creature about all this. But clearly, I was wrong.”
“A rational creature?” Mouse squawked in indignation. “You’re…you’re a High Faerie.”
“Obviously,” he said.
“And you just attacked me.”
“Attacked you? Do not be so dramatic. All I’ve done is detain you. As soon as you have heard what I came to say, you may go. Mortals are so skittish. It took a lot of work to find you here. Moving around as a statue is exhausting. But, because you freed me from my enchantment, I am feeling generous. I will ignore your lapse of judgment.”
“Generous?” Mouse echoed.
“Indeed.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get this over with.”
The branches twisted behind her to form a low seat.
The Faerie raised his eyebrows at her. “Can I trust you to sit? If so, I will remove the vines from around your legs.”
Mouse said nothing. The Faerie sighed and clicked his fingers. The vines pulled away. Her legs were free, but the sting of the bark through her trousers remained. He gestured to the stool. She eyed the path, but the vines flicked with authority. Mouse sat.
Fear, shock, and anger all battled for dominance in her mind. A Faerie had not been seen in England for over a hundred years. Was it possible that one would appear to her now? What did that mean for the rest of the country? Were there more of them? And how should she act? Mouse longed for the guidance of her mother or evenBlakeney’s.
One thought in the cacophony rang clear above all others.
What could this Faerie possibly want with her?
“Wonderful,” the Faerie continued. “Now we can be diplomatic with each other. For the duration of our acquaintance, you may call me Thornwood. May I have your name?”
“No, you may not,” Mouse said without hesitation. The corners of Thornwood’s mouth pulled into a flicker of a frown.
“You are familiar with one of my kind?”
“I am familiar with your customs.” Even withoutBlakeney’s, Faeries were part of her upbringing in the same way that gardening had been. Her mother made it clear that you never gave your name to a Faerie.
The Faerie tilted his head, smiling sardonically. “I wanted to speak with you about your predicament.”
“Which predicament is that?”
“News moves fast, even in the forest. You are at the mercy of your uncle’s will, and I can help.”
“Why? Because I freed you from an enchantment?”
“Precisely. You need my help, and I am happy to offer it.”
“For a price, of course,” Mouse said. The Faerie’s smile sharpened.
“I do not give out favors, but this can be mutually beneficial.”